


I've Been Tryin' to Keep My Grip

by yogabagabah



Series: Your Lips Tell Me We're Better Than This [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:04:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogabagabah/pseuds/yogabagabah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well I can see it in your eyes like I taste your lips and<br/>They both tell me that we're better than this</p>
<p>"Little Motel"-Modest Mouse</p>
<p>Daichi is just a man trying to survive in the bustling city of Tokyo. And if he had a few secrets, it was nobody's business. Except it was a business and a thriving one a that. A government organization dedicated to finding out Daichi's secrets, committed to tearing his life apart and dragging him out of his home like an animal. But only if they find. Only if...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Been Tryin' to Keep My Grip

He sat in the ratty, orange recliner in the far corner of the room, occasionally rubbing the itchiness from his dry, pink eyes. Sleep had not come to him that night nor any other night that Suga had stayed.

Daichi pressed his back deeper into the chair, wishing it would swallow him up. Suga, sweet and oblivious, dozed on his stomach with his bare back aglow in the pale rays of the rising sun. A soft smile settled on his sleepy lips, and Daichi looked at them thinking how funny it was that he had claimed those lips so many times. Smashing them together in passionate frenzy until they were red and puffy. I've thought about killing you just as often. 

The nights spent together start with a text message. Suga always asking, never Daichi. He would stare at his phone with his fingers set to delete the damned words, but they'd inevitably move and form a singular reply: Yes. The only word he's ever typed in their digital correspondence. 

Suga's tired brown eyes and work-worn face would appear in his doorway no more than thirty minutes later. He's dressed in a white button-up with slim fitting slacks which, by the time he's rolled around to Daichi's apartment in the dusky hours of the evening, were crumpled and smelled faintly of sweat. They soon scatter the apartment though, and Daichi is quick to mark his skin with the same eagerness as a painter with a stretch of blank canvas. He makes love to Suga the only way he knows how. With gentle hands and rough intentions. Always an exercise in restraint. 

Afterward they'd lay in each other's arms, the sheets a tangled mess around their naked limbs, and have murmured conversation with hot breath until Suga falls asleep. Daichi would disentangle himself and move to sit as far away from the bed as possible. To sit and to think of how wrong this is, how, if worse comes to worst, he would have to kill Suga. Suga. Who fell into his life unexpectedly and became this whirlwind of complications that Daichi just can't seem to quit. 

He cards his hand through his hair and sets a hard gaze on the man who frequents his bed. Their relationship was cliché like no other. Forbidden love, danger and intrigue. It was despicable, and Daichi knew he should just end it right there and then. Save himself from the torment of his conscience. Save Suga from the mess of circumstance. 

But he didn't move. Didn't breathe a word. Just sank farther into the chair and let himself be lulled by the sounds of the city and gentle breathing. Just for a little while. He'll get up when the clock turns seven.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://erenswaeger.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Art for this series by my friend tobiyoes can be found [here](http://tobiyoes.tumblr.com/tagged/my+art)


End file.
